


Letters from the Stars

by vague_ambition



Series: to love and be loved [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Letters, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Remus Lupin, Post-Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban, Realizations, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Reunions, Some Fluff, but so does Sirius, kind of sad but it's okay i swear, mentions of death (but the potters), wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 07:48:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16593785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vague_ambition/pseuds/vague_ambition
Summary: The day that Remus learns that Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban, he gets a letter professing his innocence. He doesn't tell Dumbledore about it.or, Remus's perspective as he deals with his doubts about his friend's guilt, has vague contact with another Marauder for the first time since James's death, and generally exists throughout the Prisoner of Azkaban.





	Letters from the Stars

Remus Lupin stared at the newspaper in front of him. 

Escaped. Escaped. It wasn’t possible…escaped. 

Somewhere inside of him, voices he once knew were whooping, “of course Pads could do it! If anyone could do it, Pads could!” He could almost hear clapping in the background. Of course, James Potter could never say that again, because Sirius killed him. Peter could never cheer James on again nor agree with what he said, because Sirius had killed him. And now he had escaped from Azkaban.

A knock sounded on his cottage door, and Remus nearly jumped out of his skin. The only people who had this address were Dumbledore and...well, given that it was his parents’ old place, Sirius. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed to see the headmaster’s familiar grey beard. He certainly wasn’t relieved that he had that thought--he had put to rest any hope of Sirius’s innocence a long time ago, or at least he thought he had. Dumbledore would never have allowed him to be locked up in...that place if he hadn’t been absolutely certain. 

“Albus,” he greeted. “I didn’t think I would be seeing you until term began. Can I get you a cup of tea?” He knew, with a sinking certainty in his heart, why the headmaster had decided to call upon him today. 

“Nor I, Remus, nor I,” Dumbledore responded gravely. “Unfortunately, this is not a social call, and I cannot linger long.” He cast his eyes around Remus’s small front room, his gaze stopping on the table with the Daily Prophet. “I see you have already seen the news.” Remus gave a sharp, quick nod.

“Is it true?” he said, cursing how his voice wavered. He had a sudden, stomach-wrenching flashback to the last time he had asked Dumbledore that question--when he found out that he had lost everything. Not just James and Lily, but also Peter, and the man who he had been in love with for years. He swung wildly between regret and relief that he had never confessed his feelings to Sirius. He only regretted that he was the one left alive: he would much rather have traded places with Peter.  Peter, at least, had had a life ahead of him. 

“Yes.” Dumbledore said, simply. Remus had never known the man to be brief.

“There’s something else,” he stated. Dumbledore inclined his head. “He hasn’t contacted me--he wouldn’t--and if he did, you would be the first to know.” He began to panic--during the last war, Sirius and Peter had pulled away from him, even James and Lily had seemed wary, near the end, because he was a werewolf, because he was on months-long missions. Dumbledore might have sent him on those missions, but Remus knew from experience that it would take people a very short time to leap to conclusions.

“Remus, my dear man, I never dreamed that you would do such a thing. I know you would come to me.” Dumbledore fixed him with that annoying, piercing gaze that never failed to remind Remus of his school days, something he tried his best to not think of. And, of course, he understood the underlying meaning--Dumbledore was commanding him, as one of the few remaining members of the long-bygone Order of the Phoenix, or perhaps as a new staff member, to report immediately should his old  friend,  no, should the man he thought he knew, contact him for any reason. “I am here because of a rather concerning report we have received from the Azkaban guards as to the nature of Sirius Black’s sleep-talking.” 

“Erm…” Remus wasn’t sure why he was being informed of this. 

“He has been murmuring, since June, the words ‘He’s at Hogwarts,’ over and over, it would appear,” Dumbledore continued. “We suspect that he is attempting to finish what he began twelve years ago. We fear he is heading to Hogwarts to attempt to kill Harry Potter.” 

Remus’s vision narrowed, and he feared for a moment that he would pass out. Sirius wouldn’t. He had seen Sirius’s face as he held his godson for the first time, he had spent countless nights with Sirius, James, and Lily, or sometimes, if James and Lily were on a date, just Sirius, cooing over Harry. Sirius had bought Harry his first broom, for crying out loud. Sirius would never want to hurt Harry.

Then again, Remus would have sworn up until the moment Dumbledore told him in no uncertain terms that there was nobody other than Sirius Black who could have betrayed the Potters (and perhaps, perhaps there was some form of hope afterwards too) that Sirius would never hurt James, either. Even now, twelve years later, he had difficulty reconciling the fact that the man who held James as they both cried at Fleamont Potter’s funeral killed him.

“What is being done to prevent that?” Remus’s voice sounded distant and tinny in his ears.

“We are, of course, increasing the security measures around the castle. We are also--although I have protested--required to have Dementors stationed at all campus entrances. This visit is partially a request, and partially a warning about the Dementor’s presence. I know you have memories you have no desire to revisit.” Remus flinched at that. Dementors were nasty, even to those who had exceedingly pleasant pasts. 

“The request?” He asked. He knew something was forthcoming: Dumbledore never did anything without some gain for him. Sometimes, he thought the headmaster should have been in Slytherin.

“I know that you and your friends discovered more of the castle’s secret passages than anyone else. I only ask that you help ward them, so Sirius Black cannot enter the castle that way. You do not have to tell me where they are--I would hate to know all of Hogwarts’s secrets, after all.” Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled at this. Remus couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of resentment at his ability to joke while asking this of him. It felt like a betrayal of his friends. He shook himself internally: a few passages warded off from a single person entering was hardly the worst betrayal that had befallen the Marauders. 

“Of course. Will that be all?” He knew he was perhaps more curt than he needed to be, but he wanted his solitude to mourn the people he had been mourning since 1981. Dumbledore fixed him with the same, impenetrable gaze.

“Yes, Remus. I will see you September 1st.” 

“I look forward to it.” Remus nodded and Dumbledore waved as he walked out into the rain, Disapparating with a loud pop. 

Remus turned back to the Daily Prophet, taking in the image of Sirius screaming and laughing madly on the front page. His face looked sunken, sallow. He looked unhinged--Remus supposed that if he hadn’t been when he was sent to Azkaban, twelve years with the dementors was enough to turn anyone’s head. 

Almost without thought, he reached for the well-worn photo album on his shelf. He opened it at random, his heart jolting when he took in a picture of the kitchen in the Potters’--James’s parents, not James and Lily--manor. His younger self was perched on a counter, alternating between laughing and rolling his eyes, shaking his hair every so often to try to dislodge flour that had settled in it. Lily was leaning near him, seemingly trying to hide giggles. Her normally pristine clothing was also covered in flour. Sirius, James, and Pete appeared to be engaged in some kind of flour fight, coating the whole, massive kitchen with baking ingredients. Remus could also catch a glimpse of the accidental fire that had been flickering in the kitchen sink. 

He remembered when Euphemia had taken that photo. They had been making a series of desserts--brownies, cauldron cakes, pumpkin pasties, James’s favorite treacle tart--during a cold spell the summer just after their final year at Hogwarts, in an attempt to cheer Sirius up. Why had he been---oh. Earlier that day, Sirius had found out that his brother had chosen to get the dark mark. If he closed his eyes, Remus could still Sirius stalking in front of him, yanking his hair and asking, a pleading note in his voice, why Regulus would do that. 

Had that been an act? Or was it later? Was Sirius a death eater when he was James’s best man? When he was named godfather? When, exactly, did Sirius get the answer to his question, when did he find out why Regulus had chosen to become a Death Eater and made the same choice? A voice in the back of Remus’s head kept pleading with him, insisting that it didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat, staring at that photo, trying desperately to figure out when everything had gone wrong. By the time he looked around again, night had fallen. He stretched, his joints stiff from at least two hours of sitting, lost in thought. He stood to stoke the fire when he was interrupted by an owl tapping on his window. Another surprise--Dumbledore must have some more news. 

He opened the window, but to his surprise, the owl merely stuck his leg out rather than coming inside. Remus untied the letter on the owl’s leg and with a hoot, the owl sped off into the summer storm. 

Remus looked at the letter in his hands. It didn’t look like the usual letter from Dumbledore: no Hogwarts seal, and much thinner parchment. Maybe he had sent it in a hurry? There was no name out the outside: the owl must have been a smart one. Remus unfurled the scroll, and almost dropped it in the fire from sheer shock when he was the first word, in a scrawl that he would recognize anywhere.

_ Moony--  _ it read. Remus paused, unsure if he wanted to continue. Nobody had called him Moony since that day. He turned back to the letter. Maybe there was information he could pass on to Dumbledore in it.

_ Moony-- _

_ I reckon you’ve heard the news by now. If not, surprise. _

_ I didn’t do it. I know you have no reason to believe me but I swear on everything in this world that I did not do it. I don’t want to write too much--I don’t know if you’ll believe me, or if you’ll tell anyone, or if this letter will even reach you. I hope I’ll see you again, and when I do, I’ll explain everything. For now, please...I just wanted to tell you. I’ve wanted to tell someone since they took me in, but nobody would listen. I did not kill them.  _

_ Only Prongs is gone. _

_ \---Padfoot _

Remus felt his knees buckle. No information for Dumbledore, he supposed, or at least no concrete information. Sirius always had been smart. Why had he written him? What was the point of this? Who was he to believe? 

What did the last sentence mean? Remus’s first thought was that it meant Lily was still alive, but he had seen her body. Was it just another part of Sirius’s attempt to convince him of his innocence? Or...Peter was gone, Remus was sure. 

Part of Remus wanted to cry, or laugh wildly. Sirius was alive and he had written him, Remus. He wasn’t the last Marauder. He wasn’t alone. But then, as he always did, he remembered why he was as good as the last Marauder. Only this time, he couldn’t quite quench the small flicker of hope.

***

The next letter came on September 2nd, when Remus was arranging his office. He was still reeling from the moment he had looked at Harry and thought he had seen James’s ghost. This time, he recognized both the owl and the scroll. Once again, the owl would barely stick its foot through the window. Remus questioned what he was doing--really, he should have gone to Dumbledore at once, but something held him back from doing so. Misplaced loyalty, probably.

_ Moony-- _

_ As the prophet has said nothing cautioning people against a dog, I assume you have decided not to act for the moment. I know you don’t owe me anything, but thank you.  _

_ Congratulations on the new job. You always were meant for it. _

_ \--Padfoot _

_ Ps. I would rather die than have done that, which I hope you know. _

Despite himself, Remus blinked back a few tears. It just seemed so much like...Sirius.

He should really go to Dumbledore.

He wasn’t going to. 

***

After Sirius’s attempted break-in to Gryffindor tower, it occurred to Remus that perhaps Sirius wanted to use him as a way into Hogwarts. If that was the case though, he certainly hadn’t made any overtures to do so. He had taken to walking in the woods at dusk, secure in the fact that he was sure to have the undertones of werewolf scent even as far away from the moon as he could get. Nothing in the forest would dare attack him.

It gave him some sense of peace, glancing around at the place where Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs had run together, even if he didn’t remember the moons. It was a reminder that at one point in his life, however brief, he had had people who loved him and who were alive, or not a convicted murderer. 

Merlin, that was depressing.

He hadn’t received another letter from Sirius since the one at the start of the term, a fact which he was somewhat grateful for, as it made him feel less guilty about not reporting them to Dumbledore. But why had Sirius written him? What was his motive?

“What do you want from me, Pads?” he whispered, almost despite himself. He looked up at the sky and, as he had grown so used to doing, spotted the Dog Star winking far away. He sighed, and headed back to the castle.

The next evening, another letter came. It was much longer than the first two, Remus noted idly as he unfurled it, his hands shaking.

_ Dear Moony, _

_ I promise that if it’s true, and I did, you can kill me yourself. (But I didn’t. Or I wouldn’t be saying that.) _

_ I’m trying to prove it. There is one piece of evidence I need, and I’ll be ok. I was hoping to be...well, no home without Prongs, but some version of home by Christmas but it’s proving difficult. May take longer.  _

_ You must be wondering why I’m bothering to write you. I don’t want anything, but I haven’t talked to anyone since...since it happened. This is close enough, for now. I would never ask anything of you. You have no reason to believe me and if it goes south, I don’t want you incriminated.  _

_ Yrs, _

_ Pads _

Remus stared at the paper, his hands shaking still. Sirius seemed...sane. And very convinced that he could provide proof that he wasn’t guilty. 

Could it be that he wasn’t guilty? 

Remus had to ask himself why he was okay with receiving letters from someone he thought had killed his best friends. The answer was clear--he had never wanted to believe it, so as soon as someone gave him another option, he leapt at it. But could he trust his judgement, when it came to Sirius? 

***

Christmas found Remus shivering in the Shrieking Shack, waiting for the transformation. It was easier with the potion, and he could transform in his office, in theory, but he didn’t want to risk something going wrong. 

He couldn’t help but curse the full for falling on Christmas. He would have liked to attend the feast, and talk to Harry some. He hadn’t had a decent Christmas since Harry’s first Christmas, after all. Of course the one year it was actually possible, he had to shut himself in a ruin, alone. 

His musing was cut short by moonrise. 

***

When Remus came to the next morning, he was shocked to realize that he felt some lingering sense of...joy? While the potion made it relatively painless, it certainly didn’t make for a pleasant evening. Sitting up and blinking in the light of the December sun peeking in through the cracks of the Shack’s walls, he noticed that his clothes were not quite...how he had left them. There was a set of new robes folded in lieu of the ones he had taken off, under which he found a new jumper, shirt, trousers--Merlin, there were new pants--and shoes, all nicer than anything he could have afforded. There was no sign of his old clothes.

“Sirius.” he muttered as he put the clothes on. This was exactly the kind of thing he would have done--but that means he had been here. 

He stuck his hands into the pockets of the robes and pulled out a note.

_ Dear Moony, _

_ Happy Christmas. I hoped to have Christmas dinner with you but at least we could spend the night together. Twelve years ago, I think I would have accompanied that with a wink. I don’t know, everything seems so distant. _

_ I know you’re probably still a self-sacrificing fool so I took the liberty of depositing your old clothes elsewhere. You have no choice but to accept my gift.  _

_ I would never hurt James, or Lily, or Harry. _

_ Love, _

_ Pads _

_ P.s. don’t worry about telling Dumbledore I’m here. I’m long gone.  _

Oh. That was the joy. For the first time in years, he hadn’t spent the moon alone. He had Padfoot with him. He traced the word “love” on the letter. Sirius didn’t mean it how Remus would have, once upon a time, desperately hoped he did. 

Should he tell Dumbledore that Sirius was here? Definitely, right? 

But…

He was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, Dumbledore leapt to conclusions about Sirius years before. Everything he knew about the man went against the accusations against him, and he wasn’t granted a trial. All it took was Dumbledore saying he had been the Secret Keeper and he was behind bars. Sirius didn’t hate Muggles, and he didn’t enjoy killing. He wouldn’t have killed those thirteen Muggles, it just wasn’t him. 

He would be prudent. He wouldn’t believe Sirius until there was actual evidence that he wasn’t the murderer.

But he wouldn’t turn him in. 

***

The January full moon left Remus feeling unsettled--more than usual. Sirius was definitely there again. He had no evidence of it, other than next to no injuries and the same lingering sense of joy in the mornings. No new clothes appeared, nor notes. 

Then, Sirius broke into Gryffindor tower.

Remus quite firmly had no idea what was going on. Sirius, standing over Ron’s bed, with a knife? He wasn’t doing a whole lot that convinced Remus he was innocent, but if he was really a murderer (and he should probably stop thinking like that, it was only going to make it worse when they caught him) why didn’t he just kill Ron before he screamed and get going with it? 

Almost like clockwork, the now-familiar owl tapped on his office window. He sighed, grabbing the proffered letter. 

_ M _

_ Plan gone awry, no injury intended to boys. _

_ Sorry for the scare won’t happen again. _

_ P  _

That did not make Remus feel any better.

***

Harry was so much like James sometimes that it hurt. Like now, when he was sneaking off with Ron and Hermione to visit Hagrid, comforting him before Buckbeak’s execution. James would do exactly that--in fact, he’s pretty sure James had done that, when Hagrid’s first dog had died back in their seventh year. He idly watched them walk down to Hagrid’s hut, noticing a brief confrontation with Narcissa’s brat. 

Harry had performed excellently on his defense exam. Remus couldn’t help but feel a little proud. He wasn’t sure where the talent came from--James had always been better at Transfiguration than Defense. Maybe if he had Harry’s skill, he would have--no, there was no point in dwelling on what-ifs. He kept an eye on the map, wanting to make sure that Harry, Ron, and Hermione made it back to the castle okay, especially with the dementors around. 

Twenty minutes later, Harry and Hermione began moving out of the hut, with Ron following--wait.

No. 

It couldn’t be. 

Remus waved his wand quickly, performing a spell he hadn’t done since their seventh year. The complex spellwork they had figured out for the Map wavered in the air in front of him, the runes that he and James had painstakingly researched a shimmering gold. He examined it closely, but there was nothing wrong with the spellwork. The map functioned as perfectly as it ever had. 

“Only Prongs is gone,” he muttered, staring at the footsteps labeled Peter Pettigrew. “Only Prongs is gone!”

Peter was alive. Sirius hadn’t killed him. Why had Sirius gone after him if--oh.

Peter had been the secret keeper, not Sirius.

Peter had betrayed the Potters, not Sirius.

How could he be here, though? Remus paced back and forth before the map. He would have noticed Peter around the castle before on the map, unless he had been hiding at Hagrid’s all this time. But why now?

A sudden thought chilled him to his bones. Harry had mentioned that Ron had a rat. 

He’s at Hogwarts. That’s what Dumbledore told him Sirius had been muttering in his sleep. He wasn’t at Hogwarts to attack Harry, he was following Peter. Sirius was innocent. Sirius was innocent and--

Sirius was here. A small dot, labeled Sirius Black, came sprinting from the Willow. Remus jumped up, map forgotten, and ran to see a friend for the first time in twelve years. 

***

There were no notes the next day. Remus wanted to berate himself for such idiocy--how could he forget the moon? If it wasn’t for him, Sirius might be a free man. Peter would be in Azkaban. At least Harry had been able to save him. Remus couldn’t bear if his absolute stupidity had led to Sirius receiving the Dementor’s Kiss. 

For one glorious hour, he thought that he could have his friend back, some broken form of the Marauders. He hoped that it meant an end to full moons alone, and worse, mornings after the full moon where he could barely move and was forced to lie on the cold floor of the cellar until he could stand. But the wolf had ruined that, as it had ruined most of his life. 

And now, he didn’t even have a job. He sighed as he packed his things, knowing he would be back at his parents’ cottage, alone, by tomorrow.

***

Remus had been back at the cottage for three days with no word of Sirius, either from the Prophet or from the man himself. He kept looking to the skies, hoping to see the barn owl Sirius had been using come swooping in, with no luck.

He busied himself the way he had for years, making tea, stoking the fire, reading Muggle novels. His salary at Hogwarts had been enough that he didn’t have to go immediately back to job-searching, which was good. He knew of a few Muggle bookstores in the surrounding towns that he might be able to work at for a little while, before taking time off for the moon got him fired. He had held off from visiting them in the vain hope that  _ something  _ would happen.

He settled himself in the chair next to the fire with a worn copy of  _ Les Miserables _ , flipping to his favorite section, and began to read.

“Haven’t you memorized that by now?” A low, amused chuckle sounded some time later, scaring Remus out of his skin. He jumped up, reaching for his wand, and found himself face to face with Sirius Black. 

“Sirius,” he breathed.

“Took me a bit to remember where this place was. Some details are fuzzy, Dementors will do that to you, you know.” Sirius kept on. He always had talked when he was nervous. “Glad you’re here, don’t know where else I could look.” 

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Remus interrupted him. Sirius met his gaze, his grey eyes suspiciously bright. He made an aborted movement forward, as though he wanted to hug Remus but didn’t quite know how. Remus closed the gap between them, slowly, worried Sirius would bolt if startled. He threw his arms around his friend who tentatively at first, and then much more firmly, hugged him back. 

“Moony,” Sirius said finally, pulling away. “I’ve missed you.” Remus’s heart thudded in his chest at that, and he had to remind himself that Sirius didn’t think about him that way, a thought which reminded Remus of being twenty. 

“Do you want some tea? Food?” Remus turned toward the kitchen. Sirius was alarmingly thin, and the haunted look on his face had haunted Remus’s dreams ever since he saw Sirius in the Shack. What does one say to one’s best friend when it is the first time alone in twelve years? What could Remus possibly say in face of the fact that he had left him to twelve years of wrongful imprisonment?  

“Food would be...yes.” Sirius said, looking for a moment almost as lost and overwhelmed as he had when he had first entered the Gryffindor common room, lifetimes ago. 

Remus nodded and began preparing what he could. “I’m afraid I don’t have much. Only just got in, see,” he said. “You were really risking it with those letters, Padfoot.” 

“No point in surviving the escape plan without anyone to survive for,” Sirius shrugged. Remus dropped the cutlery he was fiddling with in shock. “I hoped that…I don’t know. I just hoped.” 

“I never believed it all the way,” Remus said, well aware of how useless that sounded. “I knew there was something wrong but Dumbledore was so sure it was you. I’m so sorry, Sirius, I should have known, Merlin, I should have-” Remus was having trouble breathing suddenly, his chest tight with guilt and regret. 

Sirius was suddenly right near Remus, embracing him. “Shh, Remus, it’s okay. I don’t blame you. I remember what it was like near the end, when we were constantly waiting for someone to betray us. Merlin, I had sex with Gideon Prewett while I had a wand holster on because I was scared to ever be without a wand. Like the Prewetts could be traitors.” 

“You had sex with Gideon Prewett?” Remus laughed weakly. Of all times for Sirius to come out to him.

“Oh. Yes. Sorry. Is that a problem?” 

“No it’s just, uh…” Remus chuckled a little. “I also had sex with Gideon Prewett.” Sirius looked at him, shocked. Suddenly, they both started laughing, hysterically, until they had slumped on the floor in giggles. 

“Look at us now, huh,” Sirius said, when they both caught their breath. 

“We have a lot of catching up to do, I think,” Remus said. “And very little of it will be pleasant.”

“Can’t be worse than dementors,” Sirius joked weakly. “I should probably leave the country.”

“Oh.” Remus shook himself. Of course Sirius should leave the country, he was a wanted man. “Any idea as to where?” 

“Where do you fancy going?” Sirius flashed a quick grin, a shadow of his old beaming smile, but similar nonetheless. Remus felt weak in his knees.

“What do you mean?” He asked, cautiously. 

“I mean…” Sirius stuttered, looking completely out of his element. “Sorry. You probably have a girlfriend, or boyfriend, or someone that...you can’t just run off with a convict.”

“Run off?” Remus echoed. “And no, there’s never been anyone serious.” Only Sirius, he joked internally. 

“Would you like there to be a Sirius?” Sirius echoed Remus’s thoughts. If it wasn’t for his utter lack of discipline, Remus would think he was using Legilimency. 

“Are you asking if I want to go on the run with you?” Remus clarified.

“Yes, you daft werewolf,” Sirius seemed almost nervous. “I have some money from the Black vaults, so we should be okay. I spent the past twelve years in solitary confinement, I could use the company.”

Remus’s heart sank. Of course he just wanted company, anybody would after that.

“And…” Sirius continued. Remus met his eyes again, they were unusually steady. “I meant to tell you this years ago, but then we all started suspecting each other and everything went to shite. And I swore to myself that I would, if I ever got the chance. Because James and Lily are dead and it’s a miracle that you’re still alive, I didn’t even know if you were when I escaped, I thought I could just be sending letters into thin air or something. And now I’m not in prison and you’re not married so I should tell you because we could die tomorrow and--”

“Sirius.” Remus interrupted him, smiling at his old friend’s stammering. “I’m mad for you. I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen, probably.” Sirius stopped speaking and stared at Remus, his eyes full of shock.

“What?” Remus suddenly felt a jolt of fear: what if he had gotten it wrong? What if that wasn’t what Sirius was about to say? 

“Erm,” Remus cast about wildly for a way to backtrack, but didn’t have the time to completely spiral. There was a small shuffling noise and Remus found that Sirius was suddenly much closer to him.

“Moony. Remus.” Sirius started. “You never said.” 

“No, I never did. I don’t know if you remember being fifteen, but it was decidedly not on to fancy your best mate.” 

“It wasn’t on at fourteen either, but that didn’t stop me.” 

It was Remus’s turn to be shocked.

“Remus,” Sirius reached out and intertwined their hands. “Could you even still want me? You said since we were fifteen but I was smart, and somewhat happy, and hot then. I’m not much of a looker any more. I have virtually nothing to offer you. I can barely sleep more than three hours a night without waking up screaming. Every time I close my eyes, I see James’s dead body. I’m fucked up beyond belief, and that’s not even counting how I was before Azkaban. Not to mention, my memory is still recovering from twelve years of only cycling through the worst moments of my life over and over. I’m not...you deserve someone who isn’t a has-been at 34.” 

Remus shook his head and reached up to wipe a stray tear that had escaped Sirius’s eyes when he was talking about James. “Only ever really wanted you, Pads. That’s not going to change.” Sirius’s face lit up, looking more like his younger self than he had since escaping Azkaban. 

“I love you.” He said, finally, simply. Remus wasn’t sure who moved first, but their lips met in a gentle press of lips. It was perhaps the most chaste kiss Remus had ever experienced, but it still set his head spinning.

“I mean it, Moons.” Sirius said as they broke apart. “I doubt this is going to be easy, at all.”

Remus snorted. “Since when has anything in our lives been easy? Besides, you never were entirely sane.”

“Yeah, but back then I had my looks to make up for it. Now I’m,” Sirius waved a hand up and down his body. “Y’know, this.” Remus fixed him with a discerning look, scanning him up and down, taking in his too-prominent ribs, his sunken eyes, his matted hair. 

“This is a sight for sore eyes,” Remus said, finally. “You’re still beautiful to me. And you’ll feel loads better after a wash and a change of clothes.” Sirius smiled, a small one that Remus had certainly never seen before. Remus was seized by an urge to envelop the other man in a hug, which he promptly did, startling a small gasp out of Sirius. 

“How does Costa Rica sound?” Sirius switched topics wildly when he didn’t know how to deal with emotions, as he had in their school days. 

“Anywhere you like, Sirius, as long as I can come,” Remus murmured against his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Remus pretended that Sirius didn’t sound choked up. 

There would be nights when Sirius woke up screaming, and nights when Remus tore himself apart. There would be shouting and memories of long-dead arguments. There would be more battles to fight, later, and betrayals to work through, but for now, this was more than Remus had ever hoped to have. It was enough, to love and be loved. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this! I am planning on expanding it into a series of one-shots that are (mostly) canon-compliant. (The mostly is because I want to try to Bring Black Back but also not mess with canon too much? TBD...)


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